


Kent

by space0bongo



Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Man of Steel (2013), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Clark Is Human, F/M, Romance, The longest Meet Cute ever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-07 09:14:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10357098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/space0bongo/pseuds/space0bongo
Summary: Clark Kent never did manage to live up to his dad's expectations.A sickly kid who grew up into a sickly man, he couldn't join the army, wasn't clever enough for college, and although he loved the farm with all his heart the laundary list of Clark's conditions meant that his dad had long accepted that it'd die with him. There was never much for Jonathan Kent to be proud of when it came to his adopted son.Except one thing.Clark makes a mean cup of tea.





	

Clark Kent never did manage to live up to his dad's expectations.

A sickly kid who grew up into a sickly man, he couldn't join the army, wasn't clever enough for college, and although he loved the farm with all his heart the laundary list of Clark's conditions meant that his dad had long accepted that it'd die with him. There was never much for Jonathan Kent to be proud of when it came to his adopted son.

Except one thing.

Clark makes a mean cup of tea.

Luckily for Clark his dad was the kind of guy, the kind of dad, who didn't need much to be loudly and obnoxiously proud of his son. When Clark worked as a barista for a coffee place in Smallville he'd drive an hour into town every morning to pay three dollars for one of Clark's special tea blends (blends he'd had to fight tooth and nail for the owner to even order in). After the coffee place closed down due to mismanagement he mortgaged the farm so Clark could buy it out, and together they rebuilt it from the bottom up.

There's nothing about The Leaf that doesn't remind Clark about his dad. Jonathan Kent's ghost is in the furniture he hand carved, in the kitchen he and Clark spent an entire weekend remodelling. It's even in the car park that they re-paved overnight after one of their regulars tripped over a loose stone. Clark can't stay there after his death. He doesn't know how.

"He'd understand," Clark's mom strokes back his hair as he reads through the sale contract for the tenth time. "He only ever wanted you to be happy."

"I know." It still feels like Clark's failing him somehow, letting him down. After he signs the contract he hides up in his room and cries as quietly as he can under his duvet. Clark wonders if his dad'd still be alive if he was better, healthier, less of a stress to his overworked heart.

-/-

Metropolis isn't what he expects.

It's better because it's new, because there are no memories attached to the shiny glass and concrete buildings here, because his dad doesn't haunt him at every step.

It's worse because of the same reason too.

He gets a job at an honest to God teahouse about two blocks from the Daily Planet. It's called The Daily T which is an awful name but the owner is young and enthusiastic and gets legitimately excited when she sees Clark's resume.

"You know The Leaf was the first teahouse in Kansas right? My uncle took me to it when I was a kid. It was after mom died and I became like obsessed with roibos." She plows on before Clark can offer any half-assed platitudes. "It was her favourite. She used to drink it with lemon and a hint of honey..."

"The Josephine Special," he parrots. It was one of the special blends on the menu boards outside. It's enough to make her smile.

"I'm Nora," she sticks her hand out and Clark takes it hesitantly. He's always been bad at common courtesies, though his mom says it's more because of a lack of practice than anything else. "Stick around with me Mr Kent and we'll open up your world."

As teahouses go The T is pretty popular. Their morning rush starts at 4am when the journalists who've worked all nighters at the Planet start to trickle in for something (anything) that isn't coffee, and the evening rush starts from 6 or 7 depending on whether it's a heavy news night. Nora puts Clark on the cash desk to start, just until he's completed his tea-making training, and after a couple of weeks he starts recognising the regulars.

There's the angry bear of a guy who storms into The T like he owns it every evening after work to get 'anything sweet to wash my damn pills down with' and Clark orders him a different fruit tea every time.   
  
There's the thin photographer with glasses who likes to take close up portraits of the staff as he waits for his (free) darjeeling every morning. He'll email the photos over to Nora sometimes and if they're good she'll frame them and put them up on the walls.

There's the frankly ridiculously tiny spitfire who strolls it at the same time every morning, talking a mile a minute on her cell phone, and checks Clark out every single time before she pauses her conversation to order one of the many 'lattes' on the menu. She makes Clark blush everytime he sees her.

"You should just ask her out," Nora tells him quietly when they notice her walk in. "Fortune favours the brave right?"

"Look at her, she'd eat him alive," Fred, one of the assistant managers laughs from the brewing station.

Clark might be tall but he's thin, practically skeletal in some places, the Cancer he got as a kid might have been cured but it's left him weak. The muscles damaged. He can't gain weight even when he tries. In his experience women don't like that even when they say they do.

"It'd be a good way to go," Clark says wistfully, blushing when she checks him out from a distance. Fred laughs as he claps his shoulder, hard.

"Dream on Kent."

"Morning," he smiles at the woman when it's her turn. His world brightens for a moment everytime he sees her. "What can I get you today?"

"With a smile like that you can get me anything you want, sweetheart." She has red lipstick on today. It's enough to make him stupid because he wants to ask for her number and some how can't get it out. "I think I'll have one of your green tea special lattes today. It's been a long night."

"Hot story?" He grins as he writes her order on a cup and hands it to Fred. They don't do names here, Nora is adament about that. Not for the staff and not for the customers, she says it distracts from the tea experience. Clarke personally thinks she just hates people in general.

"Not as hot as you," she eyes his shoulders. "I like that shirt on you. Blue really brings out your eyes."

"Thanks," Clark manages to choke out even as his face blazes with the heat of a thousand hells. At that point Fred hands over her tea and after another pointed once-over she walks away, leaving Clark half-hard and wanting so much he can barely even function for a couple of hours.

It's not perfect, no where near, but he spends ten years of his life working at The Daily T. So when Nora gets shot by an ex-girlfriend with a grudge, it doesn't even cross his mind not to make an offer. By then Clark's thirty-three, he's managed to save money by commuting into Metropolis from the (now defunct) farm which added to the pot from the sale of The Leaf leads to a not inconsiderable amount, and Nora's current girlfriend who inherited the business likes him enough to give him a discount.

The first thing he does is change the name to Kent. The second thing he does is change the decor. Nora was a no-nonsense kind of woman, preferred a standing room only teaplace, but Clark wants couches and soft chairs you can disappear into. He wants to give customers free wifi, and stock food from the countries they get their tea from, and most importantly he wants to open all night long like the chinese hole in the wall places he's read about. Within a week after re-opening Kent is heaving with far more customers than Clark has ever seen in his life.

"So, word on the street is you're the new manager," the red head he's been crazy over for ten years grins when she comes in for the first time in a year. She's tanned, her hair is lighter than it was before, and she's carrying a baby. A baby. Clark absently crumples the twenty dollar note in his hand.

"I didn't know you were pregnant," he says quietly and she stares at him for a beat before laughing.

"I wasn't. This is my cousin's kid. I thought I'd take him out so she could have a break."

"Right." Clark blushes. She holds her head up higher, clearly affronted.

"Not that it's any of your business but I was in Syria for the past year."

"How do I go about making it my business?" He blurts out without thinking and then freezes when she gives him an honest to God smile.

"That's easy," she says, "you can start by giving me your name."

"Clark." He breathes out. "Clark Kent."

"Pleased to meet you Clark. I'm Lois Lane."

  
-/-


End file.
